


The Food Is Good

by eminlove



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Kevin is just a prop, M/M, Neil in Andrew's head, POV Andrew Minyard, Post-Canon, Protective Andrew Minyard, attempted humor, but we still love you, inaccurate portrayal of paparazzi, less oblivious Neil, poor grammar, probably pants too but not guaranteed, spontaneous coming out, too many people horny for action
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 07:06:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20653157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eminlove/pseuds/eminlove
Summary: Andreil's reunion with Kevin Day at a restaurant takes a shady turn. Sorry folks, it's not all about food





	The Food Is Good

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! A wild one-of-those-1k-word-coming-out-testosterone-rich-works-where-the-author-doesn’t-use-punctuation-and-can’t-discern-the-concept-of-grammar has appeared!
> 
> It’s really bad, read at your discretion :D 

When Neil orders fries for Andrew and a cheesesteak for himself, Kevin frowns with his whole face. And when he asks their server if there’s anything with kale on their menu, Andrew feels the harmonized grimace through the reverberating oxygen particles. 

Regret was no question when agreeing to reconcile with his past teammate, the shittiest one at most, (who never got rid of his kale juice addiction) since he was certain they’d only walk out alive with bleeding ears and mumbling promises to improve their dietary practices. 

Simply fuck Kevin. 

They're in a dimly lit, steakhouse-themed, delicious-smelling restaurant in the middle of a pearly white mall, with people flooding around like rivers of little ants, their chatter a low hum in the background of their conversation. The permanent scowl on his face intensifies when Kevin starts bantering about their latest games across the table, about everything Neil did _beautifully_, and what Andrew did hideously. __

_ __ _

"That pass you did to Moreau? Completely ingenious, even I wouldn't have seen it coming. Andrew was braiding bracelets with the grass or something, he could've stitched up the fucking goal with the shit he accumulated."

He wants to utilize his hands, one to wrap around Neil’s waist and squeeze him into jelly at his side, and the other to close around Kevin’s throat and dunk his head into his tall glass of faucet piss.

_But._ But, he’s aware of their audience, who see through their elaborate disguises of some baseball caps and rounded reading glasses, resting on Neil’s too-irresistible face cutely - Andrew’s impulse control has dropped to 30%, and his hand hovering at mere ten centimeters from squeezing at Neil's cheek. 

Andrew opens his mouth ask a cute idiot if he was feeling alright, but said cute idiot beats him to it. 

"I still don't understand why you brought us to the mall. I'm pretty sure this wasn't one of your sacred raven drills or morale boosters," he says, eyes narrowing, and Andrew pats him on the chest.

"Neil here is actually pretty intimidated by his lack of fashion, and if you're just here to pillory him as your way of 'addressing my ex-best-friends', we'll see ourselves out each and every exit in this place." 

The expression on Kevin's face morphs into something like guilt, and Andrew sarcastically gasps in shock. "Kev! A-are you feeling.... bad about yourself?" 

He rolls his eyes, though. "Look I'm sorry I haven't been contacting you lately because, well now I think there should be a line between where our relationship and careers cross. And I also think that line should fuck itself. I actually got engaged to Thea, she recommended we go somewhere out-of-character to act like normal friends for once." Kevin scratches at his neck and grins. It's kind of contagious and Neil smirks too. 

"Aw, who knew Kevin was such a sap? We appreciate the effort, especially since the food here is much better than your kale smoothies. Fatty, but good."

It _is_ good. 

So when Andrew indiscreetly steals a bite of Neil’s just-delivered cheesesteak, the phones come out immediately. Unlike Neil, who grows fidgety and uncomfortable, Andrew and Kevin remain largely impassive at the whispering women and their electronics. 

"I'll be right back. Bathroom,' Kevin excuses himself and his six-feet menace. There’s a casual ding of a video recording as the phones follow him stalking out of their booth to the men’s, and Andrew feels _sorry_ for the poor bastard. 

The material of the limp straw feels fleshy under Andrew’s teeth, and he grinds mercilessly, feeling selfish and furious as Neil tenses next to him. His face is expressionless, though his icy blue orbs are restless with anxiousness and a light blush is dusting over his cheeks - and Andrew wants. He wants to caress his jaw, tilt him into the wall and kiss him with reassurance and passion - but he can’t. For Neil, he wouldn’t reveal their relationship to the public, as he asked, and he promised not to cause a scene, no matter how many people badgered them with inane questions or used intelligence-quotient-challenging terms, like 'gaybies'. 

“Excuse me? I’m afraid we’re not the most interesting zoo animals,” Neil starts his tone light and huffing a laugh. 

Andrew snorts himself, a hand dipping down to rub small circles on Neil’s wrist in the shadows. Their audience giggles, utter idiots, Andrew deduces, and continue not taking any hints.   
Neil reaches out to pluck a fry from the pile and dips it in their communal ketchup lump, and the shoppers go crazy, and there are fucking flashes of light. _Flashes_ of light. 

He knows Neil is all self-conscious and aware of the distinct scars on his face, which are unbearably attractive to Andrew, and leans back into the booth, closing his eyes the way he closes them before sweeping Andrew into a dreamless sleep. 

He's on edge, glowering with disgust at the propagandists, and he wants to barf at their disability to give them a second of privacy. 

The last straw breaks, literally and metaphorically when Neil leans over, eyes sparkling and clouded with concern, and says, “Andrew, are you okay? You’ve been staring angrily at me for a while. I can feel holes burning into my face,” he gestures awkwardly with a finger.

“Awfully poetic, junkie, and yes, there are _huge_ holes,” he retorts at his boyfriend. “But not at you.”   
And Neil’s smile is brilliant and blinding, which completely fades when he hears someone squeal shamelessly, saying something along the lines of _I thought they were rivals!_ as if she had any idea what there were saying. A breath catches as his throat, and he desperately wants to bring the smile back to his hands. __

_ __ _

_ __ _

So he takes off Neil’s glasses, his cap, and turns. “Hey nincompoops, I know Neil was ranked the world’s most handsome man for two years in a row, but he doesn’t need his own crew of diligent photographers, and if you heard him once, he’d really appreciate it if he could, you know, be human for just an hour’s time.” 

“PLEASE kindly fuck off."

The restaurant goes silent in shock, and some start shuffling their phones into their bags, pockets, faces, embarrassed. The others stare with jaws dropped to the floor, and Andrew can smell their putrid breath from 5 meters away. “Phones?” He gestures, “this is a no phone-zone for the next 20 minutes, thank you very generous for filming, photographing, Instagramming, whatever - I’d love to know where the fuck you got the impression we had consented, that would be an interesting addition to your eulogies I would be giving when seeing you all into your caskets.” He ends with a lethal, full-toothed grin.

When he’s certain every electronic has gone, he makes ominous eye contact with half of the people in the restaurant, coaxes Neil’s head to his own with a hand pressing at his nape, and shoves his tongue down his throat. 

The food there was _indeed_ good. 


End file.
